


That's What We're Here For

by chchchchcherrybomb



Series: The Desperate Type [7]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: #LetThemHug, Baby Connor - Freeform, Cynthia Murphy Tries, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hugging, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of toxic masculinity ruining the party again, Mother-Son Relationship, Mrs. G. Printer Incident, Murphy Family - Freeform, Pregnancy, Proper introduction of Connor and Zoe's Auntie Chris, Rehab mention, Second Grade Connor, Suicide Attempt, TDT backstory, The Desperate Type, The Desperate Type universe, healing content maybe??, lots of flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb
Summary: Cynthia had never felt like more of a failure.In some ways, she was embarrassed of her son.She didn’t tell her friends she had sent Connor to rehab last summer; she’d said he was on a retreat. Everyone knew, of course. It was an open secret, but one that Cynthia refused to own up to.When the ambulance had come to her house in September and her concerned neighbors asked what had happened, Cynthia had replied that Connor had an accident but was alright now. She’d told herself, at the time, that it was his news to tell. And to a certain extent, Cynthia still believed that.But she was embarrassed. And ashamed. Ashamed that she couldn’t seem to help him, embarrassed that at every turn he seemed to find a new way to get worse and it was her fault.----Takes place during the Winter and Spring Epilogues of The Desperate Type.





	That's What We're Here For

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Deb Talan's "Comfort." Thanks to Amanda for the suggestion!
> 
> Warnings abound for a suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, homophobia, and being a caretaker for someone who is mentally ill. 
> 
> Chris O'Connor is Connor and Zoe's aunt. She is famous for giving Connor the Nirvana t-shirt that he wears throughout LDE and TDT.

It was difficult, for Cynthia, to think of her son as an adult, even though, legally speaking, he had been for just over a month when his friend (though admittedly that didn’t add up) brought him home, both of them shaken, from a water tower on the outside of town that she had never paid close attention to before. But Connor was eighteen, which meant that he could make his own decisions, which meant that, legally speaking, there was nothing keeping him from breaking curfew, staying out, skipping therapy. The things he had done the year before, recklessly and often. The things he seemed to have suddenly stopped doing, which was making Larry suspicious and Cynthia nervous. Zoe seemed relieved. She smiled a lot more. Cynthia had even seen her standing outside of Connor’s door, talking to him yesterday.

She knew she ought to be happy that her children were talking.

But she was just lost.

Part of her knew it was because no matter how many times she looked at her teenage son across the table or in the living room, she still saw him as a small child. A little boy.

Cynthia hadn’t wanted boys, though she would have never ever admitted that to Larry. They had been trying for a while when she finally learned she was pregnant, and in part, she was relieved. Finally. Finally she and Larry could start this part of their lives. They were both excited. Cynthia liked to imagine them with two little girls, with Larry’s warm eyes and smile and her hair, running around, playing, laughing.

She went to her appointment without Larry, knowing she was having a sonogram. He was working hard to make partner in firm where she worked, and Cynthia said she’d bring home a picture from the sonogram. Cynthia was still Cynthia O’Connor then. Still teaching the third grade at a public school in the city. Christine, her younger sister, teased her that she was a hop skip and a jump away from becoming the next Hillary Rodham Clinton. Cynthia, who admired the First Lady, thought that wasn’t such a terrible future.

“Yeah until he fucks his intern,” Chris said bitterly.

“Oh that’s enough from you, honestly. Larry would never.”

“If you say so.”

Christine insisted on driving her to the doctor’s office, and Cynthia let her because Christine had decided to “take a semester off” to “rest.” Cynthia and Larry had both privately agreed that this meant Chris had failed out last semester. They had each picked her up a few times from one house party or another, and she’d slept on their couch more times than they were really comfortable with sharing with Cynthia’s mother.

“You know my friend Heidi just found out she’s pregnant?” Chris said on the drive over, acting casual in a way that Cynthia saw right through. Chris was twenty. Her friends were too young to be getting pregnant. It also raised flush of envy over Cynthia, who had tried for nearly a year before she finally saw the damn plus sign. Twenty year olds could get pregnant on accident.

Chris rhythmically drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Her parents are going to be so pissed.”

Cynthia rested her hand lightly on her rounded belly. “Is she in school?”

“Not for long,” Chris said dismissively. “She’ll probably do something stupid like keep it. Her boyfriend Dan’s a _real_ winner. If she does keep it, that asshole will be in the wind before the kid’s ten, mark my words.” She shook her head, taking off a little fast from a red light. Cynthia really regretted agreeing to take this ride. She should have insisted she could drive herself. She just felt like Chris was struggling and maybe time together would be… nice. “So are you finding out if I’m having a niece or nephew yet?”

Cynthia smiled as best she could. “I have a feeling it’s a girl.”

“I’m so glad you aren’t being one of those ‘just as long as it’s healthy’ idiots,” Chris said. “I mean it’s not like you’re gonna try to return it if the bits aren’t the kind you hoped for, but still. You ought to know what to expect.”

Cynthia nodded.

“You want me to come into the room when the put the goo on your belly, or would you rather I read a magazine?”

“You can come in,” Cynthia said, hoping it wasn’t obvious she sort of wanted to keep an eye on her sister. Chris was none to sneak off and return, hours later, high or drunk if left alone.

“You’re no fun since you quit smoking.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes.

The appointment was pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. Chris teased her about the way her belly looked, and Cynthia smiled.

“Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” The ultrasound tech asked Cynthia.

“Yes-”

“Holy shit, is that a _penis_?” Chris said, looking up at the monitor.

The tech looked embarrassed. Cynthia looked up at her wildly. Then back at the screen where there might be a tiny phallus. She looked helplessly at the tech. “Is… well is it?”

The embarrassed ultrasound tech looked mortified and then said, “Y-yes. Congratulations, it’s a boy?”

Cynthia burst into tears.

“I’ll um… give you a minute.”

Chris was staring at her for a second, then handed over a box of tissues while Cynthia sobbed like an idiot.

“I… I mean. Boys aren’t so bad.”

“I know but.” She didn’t know how to explain just how _badly_ she wanted a girl. Little boys were sweet and all, but Cynthia knew she was supposed to have a girl. This wasn’t right. She’d been secretly looking forward to all of the pink…

“Cyn. Come on. It’ll be fine. Larry’s gonna, like, freak out when he finds out.”

Cynthia shook her head. “No, no, we’re… We’re not telling Larry.”

“We’re…. Not?”

“No. I. No. I need some time with this, I need…” Cynthia shook her head. “A boy?”

Chris tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She’d gotten their dad’s coloring; Cynthia their mom’s. Who would this little boy look like? What the hell did she do with a little boy?

 

In the years that passed since that day in the gynecologist's office, Cynthia hadn’t felt any less lost about raising her son. Connor (the name had been a compromise when Cynthia agreed to take Larry’s last name) didn’t grow up happy or healthy in the way Cynthia hoped. In fact, it seemed in the last few years, that Connor really didn’t want to grow up at all. Which broke her heart over and over because she didn’t know how to help him.

“How’s Connor doing?”

Chris had called that afternoon. “He’s home. He seems to be talking to Zoe more. I can never tell with him, honestly. It seems like there’s just so much he could be hiding.”

“Have you asked him, like, point blank?”

“Chris…”

“Spare me, Cyn. Your kid needs help, and you don’t get to let it get worse because you didn’t know how to be tactful. Tact is useless.”

“I just don’t know where to start!”

“I’d start with, hey Connor, how are you feeling?”

“What if he lies?”

“Fine, then start out asking him if he wants to die today. Maybe that’ll get honesty out of him.”

“...You’re not especially sensitive about this.”

“Well, someone has to be blunt with you. Lord knows it’s not going to be Larry.”

“He’s trying,” Cynthia said, but it was a weak defense at best.

“He’s not trying hard enough,” Chris said plainly. “And you can’t do this alone.”

So Cynthia resolved that, well, she would try. Harder. Better. She was going to try.

* * *

 

Zoe found her in the living room that afternoon when she got home from school. “Alana’s coming over. Is that cool?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Zoe turned to go.

“What are you up to?”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Oh um. I think we’re going to do a sort of study party? If that’s cool. I think Evan might come too…”

“Alright.”

Zoe bit her lip, like she wasn’t sure she was meant to be saying anything. “Connor mentioned something about college applications today.”

“Oh!” Cynthia was surprised, honestly. She had, apparently wrongfully, assumed that Connor wasn’t planning to go to college the next year with all of the issues that had arose.

“Alana suggested we just all… you know. Do homework and whatever. Be supportive without making it a whole high pressure situation. None of us thought, with everything… but I guess he like met with a counselor today? About scheduling his SAT? So I guess he’s serious. And we want to help. In a low key way.”

“Of course.”

“ _Don’t_ say anything to him, please. I don’t want him to freak out.”

“Freak out about what?” Connor had walked into the room at that moment, arms crossed over his chest, looking guarded and frowning.

“Alana’s coming over,” Zoe lied smoothly. “And you know how dad gets all weird when people are over, starts trying to do the whole super dad thing.” Zoe changed her posture, imitating Larry in a way that was scarily accurate. “In my day, kids would rather read a book than the facebook, nobody knows the value of hard work, lalala…” Connor kind of smiled at his sister. “I mean, Alana is in like. Every. Club. She doesn’t need someone telling her she’s not working hard enough.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, still not sounding totally convinced. “Mom… is it okay if Evan comes over too…?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Cynthia genuinely liked Evan. He was sweet, polite, kind and, if Cynthia was right, totally head over heels for Connor. “Do you think Alana and Evan are going to stay for dinner? Should I make something?”

Her kids exchanged a helpless look.

“I’ll make sure it has gluten as long as you promise me neither of them has an allergy.”

Zoe smiled, Connor smirked, and Cynthia resolved that next time she would just let the kids order pizza.

* * *

 

Cynthia tried not to hover around that night as Zoe, Alana, Evan, and Connor huddled around their kitchen table. She heard Alana and Evan mention a few times that they felt bad that Jared couldn’t come over.

“I think he’s working tonight anyway,” Evan said, shrugging.

“He’s the worst when it comes to studying though,” Zoe said pointedly. “Last time we sat together in the library, he and I ended up watching a bunch of Youtube videos trying to figure out if we had ASMR.”

“Well do you?” Connor asked.

“That’s not the point.”

“She totally does,” Connor said, nudging Evan who smiled. “I bet you fall asleep to weird haircut videos now.”

“Beats not sleeping,” Zoe countered, smiling. “Tell me, what time did you get to bed last night, Captain Insomnia?”

Cynthia caught the way Connor’s eyes traveled to where she was standing in the kitchen, getting herself a glass of water. “Not that late.”

“At least after two,” Zoe said. “Heard you on your way back from the bathroom.”

Connor shook his head, turning his attention back to the book in front of him. Cynthia watched as, seemingly unnoticed by the others, Evan bumped his knee against Connor’s and kept it there. They exchanged a quick look, before both of them looked back at their textbooks.

“Can I get you anything guys?” Cynthia asked them, making sure if they wanted privacy they knew she was on her way out of the kitchen.

“No, thank you Mrs. Murphy,” Alana said, smiling politely. She had a good smiled, Cynthia decided.

“I’ll be in my room if you need me. Don’t work too hard.”

* * *

 

That night after Evan and Alana had gone back to their parents’ houses, Cynthia went upstairs to check on Connor and Zoe.

She paused, as she often did now, just before the top of the stairs, checking to make sure she wasn’t about to interrupt them talking.

“I think you could just tell her,” Cynthia heard Zoe’s voice saying.

“I think that’s a very bad idea.”

“She won’t be mad.”

“Or she’ll totally care and be all pissed off I never said anything.”

“Do you really think she hasn’t like, you know, noticed?”

“Well I’ve been trying not to be obvious.”

“ _Connor_ ,” Zoe said, sounding exasperated. “I think you can just tell Alana that you think you guys are friends. It’s not weird.”

“Whatever.”

“Okay, good night asshole,” Zoe said, laughing a little.

“Yeah, night.”

Cynthia smiled a little, then finished climbing the steps. She knocked on Zoe’s door first, to say good night. Zoe was texting somebody when she told Cynthia she could come in.

“Just wanted to say good night, Zo.”

“Night.”

Cynthia kissed her forehead. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m glad you had a friend over, honey,” Cynthia said, smiling a little. “It’s… nice to see you and your brother getting along like that.”

Zoe’s smile sort of wilted a little. “Yeah. It is kind of nice, right?”

“Sleep well honey.”

“Thanks.”

Cynthia closed Zoe’s door. She walked down the hallway a little, coming to a stop outside of Connor’s bedroom, still missing the door. Connor was tying his hair up, already in sweats and his glasses. He seemed to be hunching over a book. Cynthia knocked.

He turned quickly and closed the book. “Hi.”

“Hi. What are you reading?”

Connor sighed, then said, “Just going over some history homework. I have a test tomorrow.”

Cynthia nodded. “Can I come in?”

“Sure…?”

Cynthia stepped into his room, more than a little grateful that the room didn’t smell like weed. She perched herself on the end of Connor’s bed. “How are you?”

“Fine? Why?”

Cynthia frowned. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. “No, I mean.” Cynthia bit her lip. “How have you been doing with everything? Since you got back home?”

Connor raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I mean. Okay, I guess.”

“And the new medication you’re trying?”

Connor looked really uncomfortable. “I mean. I dunno. I don’t really feel any different, but…” He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

She nodded. “You can always talk to me, Connor. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” He said vaguely, not really meeting her eye.

She knew it wasn’t enough, but it was all she could do.

* * *

 

The winter dragged on and on. February arrived frigid and icy, and Cynthia began to worry that they wouldn’t survive it.

Connor had been up lately. Smiling, happy, spending time with Evan. He mentioned seeing a friend from rehab. His grades came back, mostly Bs, which was a feat considering the absences and the failing grades he had started the semester out with.

But then as January faded into February, it seemed to just. Completely backslide. Total reversal. He and Zoe started fighting, something they hadn’t done much in months, and Cynthia started to hear Zoe’s bedroom door slamming a lot more often, followed by the click of a lock. Evan didn’t come over as much. Connor often came home from school and went straight to sleep, not even getting up for dinner, not willing to wake up for school the next day. He started asking to call out sick again. He came home stinking of weed a few times. He’d forget to call when he wanted to stay over at Evan’s, leaving Cynthia and Larry to pace the house while they waited up half the night to see if he was going to come home.

She checked on him constantly. To see if he was still breathing.

She did that a lot when he was a baby.

Sleeping in the crib they set up for him, Cynthia would watch him breathe. Watch him breathe while the new baby in her belly kicked and kicked. At the time, she had hoped it meant that this new baby cared for their brother.

And for years, that was true.

Cynthia was such a stereotypical suburban mother that even she had to laugh at herself sometimes. The matching outfits, the scrapbooking. She thought her heart might explode one day when she discovered Connor, two, had crawled into Zoe’s crib to read the one year old a story. Only he didn’t know how to read yet, so he filled in the details of _Goodnight Moon_ with the sort of inventive nonsense only a toddler could generate.

They were close when they were small. People would assume they were twins, because Zoe was tall and broad as a toddler, while Connor remained slight and small. She asked their pediatricians and was reassured time after time that they were both progressing typically. Healthy. Fine. Normal.

She had planned to go back to teaching when Zoe was three.

Then she planned to go back when Zoe was four.

Then at some point she stopped planning to go back at all, because Larry had made partner and did she really want to leave the kids in the care of a daycare center?

And Connor and Zoe were inseparable. Thick as thieves. They played together happily. Connor wasn’t naturally competitive, but Zoe was, so Cynthia watched, never interfering, when Connor would let her win at _Candyland_ or _Sorry._

Things started to shift when Connor started Pre-K. He loved school, but Zoe missed him and he clearly missed her, so after a while he started to ask to stay home.

“Mommy,” He said, very matter-of-factly one afternoon. “I think I should stop going to school.”

“Why’s that?” She asked, trying to humor him.

“It’s not fair that Zoe doesn’t get to go yet,” He said. “I know too much already. I should wait and go with her next year.”

And Cynthia shook her head and kissed her sensitive little boy’s cheek. “Zoe will be alright. You’ll go together next year. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Connor always asked. This was was the height of honor for him.

“Pinky promise. It’ll all be okay.”

It wasn’t, of course.

Zoe met friends in Pre-K. Lots of them. She was bubbly and social and happy and friendly, and the other little girls flocked to her like flies to honey.

Connor had a small group of friends. Nobody too close. People who would invite him to playdates and birthday parties from time to time, but not people who would encourage him to come over to play every weekend like Zoe had.

Connor missed her, Cynthia realized. While Zoe went to party after party, playdate after playdate, Connor missed her. He’d pepper her with questions when she got home, begging to know who was there, what they did, was it fun, and Zoe would answer and then ask to go and play house or cops and robbers or Pokemon.

Connor missed his sister until one day he didn’t.

One day, Connor and Zoe were fighting over a controller for a computer game, and Connor hit Zoe. He sat in time out for an hour and tearfully apologized after.

One day, Connor threw a tantrum because he didn’t want to play t-ball anymore. He insisted that the other kids made fun of him. Cynthia made him go, and he scored twice, and the complaints stopped. Everything was fine.

One day, Connor came home and said, sadly, that he wasn’t invited to Sabrina Patel’s birthday party, even though they were locker buddies. He thought they were friends, but she didn’t invite him to go roller skating. Cynthia asked the teacher, casually, if there was an invitation policy for the kids in class. Mrs. G. explained that her rule was that kids had to invite all the girls, all the boys, or everyone to the party, but they couldn’t pick and choose. Sabrina had invited all of the girls, and Connor hung his head and said he understood why he wasn’t invited.

One day, Cynthia’s sweet little boy threw a printer at his teacher, and she had to pick him up from school early because he was suspended for three days. And Cynthia didn’t know what on earth could have possibly compelled him to react in such an over the top, violent way.

“Connor, what on earth?”

He just cried and cried on the way home.

“Why would you do that? We don’t throw things at people, Connor.”

He tearfully hiccuped his way through an explanation about his teacher making a big deal out of the fact that he was the only person in class who hadn’t passed their Minute Math for their multiples of two. He said he had done it, but she had marked 3 X 2 = 6 wrong, and when he tried to explain she took away his recess and skipped him as line leader. Connor said he just got so frustrated and didn’t know what happened until he was being sent to the principal’s office.

Cynthia understood. She even defended him when Larry took things too far and went on and on about how this was a slippery slope to prison to their eight year old.

 

Somedays it felt like it was still some variety of a slippery slope.

Connor and Zoe were both back to slamming the door in each other’s faces. He didn’t talk much at all. He went straight to sleep when he got home from school.

Cynthia felt powerless in the wake of whatever this was. It seemed like nothing had changed at all from the fall.

And then it happened.

Cynthia walked into the kitchen to discover Connor standing there, eyes unfocused, holding a small, sharp paring knife.

“Sweetheart…?”

He turned around, flinching. “I-”

She saw the blood immediately, dripping thick, fat drops onto the pristine floors she had spent the morning washing. “It’s okay. Honey, look at me, it’s alright. Can you put the knife down?”

Connor nodded. He seemed half there, at best, his eyes glassy and… He put the knife in the sink.

“Okay, good job. Can I see?”

Cynthia braced herself, and it wasn’t enough. It took all of her not to break then and there. She knew about the pink scars that crisscrossed his wrists and forearms, but this was deep. Straight up the wrist. Purposeful.

“Okay, okay, Connor. Sweetheart, look at me.” She took his wrist in her hand, and waited until Connor made eye contact. “We have to go to the hospital, okay?”

He nodded.

“Let’s get this wrapped up first.” Her voice was far calmer than Cynthia felt. Inside she was screaming, but outside she was unshakeable. She methodically walked to the drawer she kept full of fresh, clean white towels for the kitchen, grabbed the first one, and pressed it into the gash on her son’s arm. She wrapped it as tightly as she could, then secured it with another towel tied in a tight knot. “Keep pressure on it. Can you do that sweetheart?”

Connor nodded. His eyes looked dead. “Hurts.”

“I know, I know, but we’re going to get it taken care of.”

He didn’t seem to process that information. Cynthia worried he might pass out.

“Okay, let’s go get in the car, alright?” She steered him out of the kitchen, smearing blood across the floor as they went out through the attached garage, into the SUV.  Cynthia backed out and tore out of their neighborhood, tires squealing. “You’re keeping pressure on it, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. You’re doing good, sweetie, we’ll be there soon.” Cynthia drove like this was some kind of Nascar qualifier, knowing she was risking getting pulled over, but not giving a single damn. The ambulances in this god forsaken suburb had an appalling response time. She knew this from September when he was unconscious in his bedroom with a bruise around his throat. She knew that she’d get Connor to the emergency room faster. “Keep talking to me, honey, okay? How are you feeling?”

“Sick.”

“Okay, okay, let me crack a window alright?” She slammed a finger on the passenger side window button, and the air that flooded the car was icy and biting, but Connor seemed more alert. “Did you go to school today?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“All of your classes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. What did you have for lunch?”

“Skipped lunch.”

“That’s okay,” Cynthia said, just babbling now. “How are you feeling? Is the air helping?”

“Better.”

“Good. We’re almost there.”

Cynthia threw on her hazards, parking the car outside of the hospital, circling to the passenger side, helping to pull Connor out of the car. He was looking pale, but still walking and talking, which she took as a good sign. She hurried to usher him inside, barking at the first person in scrubs she say. “We’re okay, yeah? We’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, and Cynthia nodded, because what could she even say?

Mercifully, it was a slow day in the ER. They were seen almost immediately. Connor didn’t need a transfusion, just some stitches and a tetanus shot. It was a miracle. They were lucky.  

Cynthia stood beside the bed where Connor sat as they examined the cut and gave him a shot to numb the area. She watched as his other fist tightened into a ball. She wanted to reach out, take his hand, reassure him, but… Something held her back. Connor had resisted touch since he was about thirteen, and she suddenly doubted he would even let her touch him now. So she just watched as the doctor in baby blue scrubs got to work sewing up the gaping hole in her son, wishing she could have done that a long time ago.

Another doctor asked to speak with Cynthia privately, and she followed him while Connor was still being stitched up. “I’m the doctor advising in the ER today, and I’ve called for a psychiatric consult. I know your son is eighteen, but he doesn’t seem…”

“No, you’re right,” Cynthia nodded, saying, “Thank you.” Her voice was shaking and sounded on the verge of tears. She cleared her throat, trying to push that down. The doctor didn't know her from Adam. He wasn’t welcome to see this. “This is… this is the _fourth_ time this year. I know, I know he’s sick but… I don’t know how to help him.”

The doctor looked supremely uncomfortable, patting her shoulder and saying the psychiatrist would be with them shortly.

Cynthia walked back to her son’s bed. He was sitting with his legs crossed like a pretzel, staring at his wrist, now stitched up and bandaged, looking pale and like he still might be sick. When he heard her approach, Connor’s gaze dropped into his lap, and he mumbled, “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head. His voice was his voice again, not the terrifying far away one of the last hour or so.  “I’m… I messed up. I’m sorry.”

Cynthia shook her head, “It’s alright.”

“This is it, right? Dad’s going to be so pissed. He’s going to kick me out, right? God, how much is this going to _cost_ you guys? Fuck… What is the _matter_ with me? I’m sorry I… He’s going to throw me out again.”

“Connor. No. Your dad just wants you to get better.”

“He hates me, and I don’t blame him. I fucked this up, again, and he’s going to throw me out and-”

“No,” Cynthia said firmly. “ _Nobody_ is getting thrown out. Why would you think that? You’re always welcome at home, sweetheart. Your father and I.. We just want you to start feeling better. Okay?”

“He always throws me out,” Connor mumbled. “Every time I really screw up, and it’s off to Grandma’s or rehab or the Hansens for a few days…”

Cynthia couldn’t really deny that. Her throat grew tight. “Not this time. I swear. I’m so sorry I let that happen before, but you’re coming back home, okay? I promise.”

He looked like he might cry, which Cynthia realized, distantly, unnerved her. He never cried anymore, not that she saw. Not since he was still a tiny thing with a buzzcut who came to talk to her about the other kids at school teasing him. It made a lump rise in her throat.

“I’m sorry, mom…”

“Sweetheart, don’t be sorry,” She said, sitting at the end of the bed. She reached out and took his hand, realizing for the first time that hers was coated in dried blood. His blood. Connor didn’t seem to mind, he squeezed her hand back anyway. “You don’t have to be sorry for this. This isn’t your fault. This is just something we need to work on, alright?”

“Alright.”

“You need to tell me if you start feeling this way so I can help, okay? Please, sweetheart…  I _want_ to help you.”

“I didn’t… I _wasn’t_ trying,” Connor said in a small voice. “Not this time, I wasn’t, it’s just…” He shrugged helplessly, like he couldn’t figure out what to say.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Connor said softly. She squeezed his hand tighter, and he squeezed back. “I’m… I’m trying _everything_ but nothing changes…”

Cynthia pulled him to her then, hugging him tightly, and she knew immediately that something was different because he let her. He didn’t pull away, his spine didn’t go stiff and straight. He just leaned into the hug, and Cynthia stroked his hair which had gotten so so long. “You’re going to get through this, okay?”

“What if I can’t?”

“You can. You’re already doing it.”

Cynthia heard him sniffle, and just pulled him to her tighter. She could tell some people around the ER were watching, but she didn’t give a damn. She just let Connor cry on her shoulder, rubbing his back and telling him it was going to be okay because it was her job to make it okay. She was his mother, and she didn’t care how old he or tall he got, she would let him cry on her shoulder. After a little while, Cynthia felt his arms come around her, hugging her back, and she felt a tear slip hotly down her cheek. It had been far too long since she had hugged him. Even if it had been the day before, Cynthia realized, it had been far too long.

“Did something happen today?” she asked after a little while.

“No. Not really.” Connor pulled away, awkwardly swiping at his face and coughing to clear his throat. Cynthia reached over and brushed a tear from his cheek. He didn’t flinch away. “It just. All got to be. Too much. Everyone’s going to go away to college, and I don’t know what I’m doing, and Zoe still hates me and…” He stopped. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about this.”

“Yes, I do,” Cynthia said, taking his hand again. “Why are you worried about everyone leaving for college?”

Connor shrugged. “Because, I… I’m just going to be alone again, and Evan’s-” He stopped, shaking his head.

“What about Evan?”

“Well I mean if I can’t get into the school where he’s going, he’ll probably just, you know, break up with me, and I know like, that’s stupid but…I really don’t want him to do that.”

“It’s not stupid. It sounds like this has really been weighing on you.”

Connor shrugged, not looking at her.

“It makes sense that you’re scared about your friends leaving. It’s been a hard few years for you, and now it seems like you’ve surrounded yourself with people who really care about you. It makes sense that it would be scary that they’ll be going away to college next year.”

Connor nodded. “It just. It just got to be too much and I…” He shook his head. “And Evan... “ Connor shook his head. “Dad doesn’t know we’re dating.”

“I know. I didn’t want to tell him unless I knew it was absolutely okay with you.”

“He hates that I’m gay.”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s true,” Cynthia said, “But if he does, that’ll be something he’ll have to deal with on his own. There’s nothing wrong with you, Connor. I love you, and I love your sister, and I just want to see you both happy. Gay, straight, whatever. I just want you to be happy.”

“So you know about Alana?”

“I’m not _blind_ , Connor.”

He almost smiled.

“Your dad will come around on Evan.”

Connor shook his head. “Assuming Evan sticks around.”

Cynthia pulled Connor into another tight hug. She couldn’t promise his boyfriend wouldn’t break up with him when he went away to school, but she could do this. She could let him tell her about those worries. She could be there.

Eventually, when the psychiatric consult stopped by Connor’s bed, they all agreed that Connor should probably be hospitalized for a couple of days. Just to stabilize his medication and give him some time to recuperate.

“Let me call your dad,” Cynthia said. “I’ll be right back.”

Connor sighed. “Can you… Will you let Evan know too?”

Cynthia nodded, surprised. “Of course. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Connor shrugged. “It’s… It’s just that tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day…”

Cynthia leaned over and kissed the top of her son’s head. “He’ll understand. I’ll call Heidi, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It’ll be alright Connor.”

“Okay... I mean. If you say so.”

* * *

 

She didn’t sleep that night.

Zoe was tears when Cynthia eventually returned home. Larry was still in his suit, his sleeves rolled up and his tie still on, attacking the floor of the kitchen with bleach, erasing the blood spilled there.

Zoe sort of threw herself at Cynthia when she walked in the door. It was one thing that

Cynthia had always appreciated about Zoe. No matter how much distance Zoe put between them, when something big happened, Zoe turned to her. Cynthia sank into the couch, Zoe following, and the two of them just sat there, quiet, until Zoe had stopped crying.

“I’m. I’m just angry,” Zoe said. “I thought he was getting better.”

“Me too.”

Cynthia heard Larry storm into his office. She didn’t have it in her to go after him. She just stayed with Zoe until Zoe softly told her that her blouse was stained.

“Oh. Right. I didn’t even realize.”

“Maybe you should go to bed…?” Zoe suggested.

Cynthia patted her cheek. “You do the same. Do you want to visit him tomorrow?”

Zoe nodded.

Cynthia hugged her daughter tightly. And felt the weight of the fact that she could know how hard it would be to lose this child while her other child seemed like he might slip through her fingers the second her back was turned.

Cynthia walked into her bedroom, then into the ensuite bathroom, stripping out of her bloody and stained clothes and stepping into a scalding hot shower.

She climbed out, feeling drained, like her own blood had been poured out and washed away. She pulled on some soft sweats and went and sat at the edge of her bed.

There was a message blinking on her phone, from Heidi, who had texted her again to ask if there was anything she could bring Cynthia.

Cynthia texted her back to thank her and tell her there was nothing that she needed. At least nothing Heidi could provide. Heidi couldn’t bring Connor home, make him well.

Cynthia had no more pride. If another mother could have done it, she’d let her.

Larry emerged in the doorway before long, and Cynthia swallowed down the urge to tell him to get the fuck out of her room.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said with a weary voice, loosening his tie.

Cynthia pressed her lips together tightly.

“I’m worried… I’m worried we’re going to lose him.”

She bit her tongue. She’d had that fear, deep and acutely painful, carrying it around inside of her since the kids were small. And Larry was just now getting there.

“I’m going to sleep in the guestroom,” is what Cynthia said instead.

She got up and went into the guest room, closing the door.

 

The first time she thought she had lost Connor, he was seven. They had taken the kids for a picnic at the Autumn Smile Orchard, and Zoe had insisted that their bring their toy plane. She and Connor liked to fly it through the trees. They weren't especially good at sharing at that age.

Cynthia noticed the commotion after maybe an hour. Connor was telling Zoe to give him a turn. Zoe was shrieking that he’d only let her play for five minutes. She was starting that way to tell them to knock it off, they were too old not to know how to share, but Larry stood up, grumbling, “I’ve got it,” and Cynthia went back to pulling out their lunches.

She turned around when she heard Zoe start crying.

“What happened?”

“Daddy crashed the plane!” Zoe shouted.

“It… made an emergency landing,” Larry said, trying to lighten the mood.

But Connor had dashed off in search of the fallen plane. Apparently it had landed along the banks of the small creek that ran through the orchard.

“I think it’s broken,” He said dully, fishing it out of the water by a bent wing.

Zoe started wailing about how it was all Connor’s fault, and Larry seemed to agree, saying this wouldn’t have happened if he just learned to share with his sister.

“No! That’s not fair!” Connor said. He sounded dangerously close to tears.

“Knock it off Connor, quit acting like a baby. Boys don’t cry,” Larry said, and Cynthia opened her mouth to tell him off.

But then Connor.

His chin wobbling.

Took off running.

“Let him go,” Larry said, shaking his head. “He needs to walk it off.”

So Cynthia let him. But then ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then it wasn’t a matter of letting Connor cool off anymore. A panic gripped her, like an icy hand wrapping around her throat, and she was on her feet, announcing defiantly that she was going to find Connor.

She headed off in the direction he had gone, calling his name, her panic growing with each step she took, each time she called out and wasn’t answered.

“I can’t find him,” She said, rushing back to where Larry was sitting on the picnic blanket with Zoe. “It’s been half an hour, and I can’t find him.”

“He probably just wandered off.”

“Only because you let him!” Cynthia snapped. “Help me find him.”

“Is Connor missing?”

“No, sweetie,” Larry said at the exact moment that Cynthia said, “Yes, and we need to find him.”

Larry rolled his eyes, and it was so obvious to Cynthia that he thought she was being silly, but she didn’t care at all. She took off, rushing in the direction that Connor had gone, hurrying toward the place where the trees became more dense and the crowds of people thinned out. Every potential disaster flashed in her mind’s eye. Connor kidnapped. Connor drowned in the creek. Connor crumpled up on the ground, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn’t go, broken from a fall. Connor missing, Connor gone, Connor….

“Mom?”

She whipped around to see him sitting at the base of a tree. Somehow in the short time he had been gone he had gotten dirt on his face and what looked like pine sap in his hair.

“There you are!” She rushed over to him, picking him up and grabbing him roughly in a hug. “I was so worried about you. Don’t you ever run off like that again.”

“Mom, put me down,” He whined, trying to pull away.

He’d reached that age where he was too embarrassed to hug her or hold her hand in public.

“Why did you take off like that?” She set him down.

Connor shrugged. “I dunno. I got mad.”

“You got mad?”

“Dad wasn’t being fair. He always listens to Zoe, not me.”

Cynthia frowned, but she couldn’t protest. Larry often took Zoe’s side. “You can’t ever take off like that again.”

“I know.”

“You’re grounded for a week.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No TV, no computer time.”

“Okay.”

“And you can only read for half an hour when you get home.”

“What?” Connor yelped. “That’s not fair!”

“Neither was giving me a heart attack while you disappeared for an hour.”

Connor looked down at the ground, looking suitably cowed. “Sorry mom.”

“Honestly, what on earth were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “I was going to run away.”

Cynthia was surprised. “Why?”

“Because dad and Zoe were mad and they hate me so I was going to just stay here and be like Johnny Appleseed.”

Cynthia had to try incredibly hard not to laugh about that. “Connor, sweetheart, your dad and sister don’t hate you. They just got frustrated. That happens.”

He shook his head. “When I get mad, I hate them.”

“Next time you’re mad, you can just tell us. We can talk about it. You don’t need to run away.”

Connor shook his head. “No. Dad gets mad if I try to talk about… stuff.”

“You know your dad is wrong, right baby?”

Connor blinked in confusion. “About what?”

“Boys are allowed to cry too. You’re allowed to if you get sad or upset. You’re allowed to talk about that stuff.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Sure mom.”

“I’m serious!”

“Okay. If you say so.”

 

Cynthia pulled out her phone, dialing her sister before she could doubt herself.

“This is Chris.”

“Are you still working?” Cynthia asked. Her thoughts jumped to mania, to drugs, to Chris hurting herself.

“No, sorry, force of habit,” She said. “What’s going on, Cyn, it’s late. Especially for you.”

“It’s Connor.” Her voice broke as a it all spilled out of her. The blood, the tears, Larry’s anger and frustration. “He… he…”

“Okay, sit tight,” Chris said. “I can be there in thirty minutes if I speed.”

“No, that’s not what I meant-”

“Forty minutes if I don’t.” The phone went silent. Cynthia wiped her eyes. When the kids were little, she had hoped for this kind of a relationship between them. She’d envisioned Connor rushing to help Zoe, Zoe cheering him up after a long day.

Now she just wanted them both alive. Both alive was the only goal she could manage. They could hate each other, hate her, just as long as they were both there.

Chris called her from the driveway, and Cynthia let her in. Zoe heard the front door opening and joined them for a cup of tea in the kitchen. It seemed that Larry was the only one who could sleep through this.

“He’ll be okay,” Chris said with the sort of certainty that Cynthia lacked.

“It’s… it’s really stupid, but I’m just so mad at him,” She said. “We ate lunch together today. He could have said something to me.”

Chris patted Zoe’s shoulder. “That makes a lot of sense. You want him to trust you, to tell you about these things that could hurt him, and he didn’t reach out. You’re allowed to be angry.”

Zoe nodded.

Cynthia wished that she had any of those words. She wished someone would tell them to her.

After half an hour, Zoe was sent up to bed. Chris told Cynthia to go fuck herself when she said she would just sleep on the sofa and give Chris the guest room. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight, Cyn.”

She didn’t sleep that night.

But neither did Chris. She just stayed in bed beside Cynthia, and they talked and talked and talked until the sun came up.

“I’m going to put on a pot of coffee,” Chris said. “Are we allowed to visit him?”

Cynthia nodded.

And drifted off for a little bit.

When she pried open her eyes, Chris was standing at the foot of the guest bed with a cup of coffee. “It’s nine o’clock. Evan’s mom Heidi left a message, she’s going to bring by some food on her way to work. Larry’s working late, huge surprise, and Zoe decided to try school today because it felt more normal. I called and checked about when we were allowed to visit, and they said the afternoon would be best, so you’re going to get up, get dressed however you usually would, eat something, and then we’ll go.”

Cynthia smiled at her sister. “Thank you.”

“Oh, well. I owed you, didn’t I?”

Cynthia pulled herself out of bed, giving her sister a hug. Chris was built more like Connor. Tall, willowy. She was a good head taller than Cynthia.

“Still. Thank you.”

* * *

 

“Cyn, you sound exhausted.”

She _was_ exhausted. She’d already decided against attending the pilates class she typically took three times a week. “I am.”

“What’s going on? Connor’s back home, right?”

“Yes, and he and Zoe seem to be doing better,” Cynthia answered her sister. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

 

This was true. When Connor got home a few days before, Zoe hugged him. Cynthia, in one of her middle of the night checks to make sure her children were still breathing, caught Zoe out of bed, standing just outside of his door, listening.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to check on him.”

Zoe shook her head. “I know, but,” She sighed. “I knew something was up the other day, but I just got so mad at him for being a jerk that I ignored it. I just… we know he’s okay?”  
“We know he’s okay.”

Zoe hugged her mom and went back to her room. Cynthia peered into the dark of Connor’s room, listening for the even sound of his breathing. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he sat up and said something.

“She’s been doing it every night, but she keeps waking me up,” Connor’s voice said groggily. “I should tell her to knock it off so we can both sleep… but it’s sort of. Nice. That she cares... or whatever.” He shrugged.

Cynthia smiled, thinking of Chris appearing in the middle of the night when Connor went into the hospital. “I know the feeling.”

“Did Auntie Chris make it back okay?” Connor asked.

Cynthia nodded.  “Well, I suppose I’ll just say good night then. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Connor shook his head, “No. I was still up, just listening to some French vocab before I went to sleep. I don’t want to get too behind.”

“You know I can always help with that,” Cynthia said, smiling.

“French?” He sounded skeptical.

Cynthia felt a knot in her gut. How did he not know this about her? “Yes. I spent a summer in Paris, during undergrad. I used to be fluent… not so much anymore, but… I could probably help with the vocab sometime. If you wanted.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night mom, love you.”

Cynthia paused for just a second, wondering when the last time he’d said that to her was. “Love you too. Sleep well.”

 

But she’d been up half the night trying to piece together how it was possible she and Connor knew so little about each other. She could list his allergies, his birth date, the pills he got addicted to, and the brand of cigarettes he was always sneaking, but ask her for his favorite color or favorite book and she was clueless.

She knew teenagers and their parents didn’t always end up close.

But she didn’t know her son, and he didn’t know her either.

So she paced the downstairs all night, trying to work out at where she had gotten so terribly off track.

And now she was answering a call from her sister, feeling like she had fallen upon a crisis that she hadn’t anticipated. “How did I… become this person?”

“Sorry, I’m not following?”

“My children have no idea who I am! I don’t know anything about them! The most meaningful thing I’ve accomplished in the last five years is losing six pounds!”

Chris sighed on the other line. “I think this is exactly the wrong thing to take away from this experience.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, frankly, I mean that your kid nearly died last week, and I bet you any money he doesn’t give a _shit_ that you speak French. I think he just wants his mom to actually be there for him. So, I dunno, maybe make an effort to, like, get to know him better?”

* * *

“Mom?”

Cynthia set down the book she was reading. “Hi honey. What’s going on?”

Connor sat down on the couch next to her, smiling tentatively. “I wanted to ask you something. And I completely understand if you say no, but… Spring Break is in a couple of weeks, and Evan is going to Colorado to visit his dad. He’s really nervous about it, since he hasn’t visited in like five years and. I was wondering…” Connor gave her another smile, “And you can totally say no. But I was wondering if it was okay for me to… to go with Evan?”

Cynthia blinked in surprise. “You want to go visit Evan’s dad with him? In Colorado?”

Connor nodded. “But I know I… I haven’t been home that long yet, and so I completely understand if you… say no.”

Cynthia frowned. “Are you feeling up to the trip? That would be a lot of traveling. Meeting new people.”

Connor nodded. “I know. I think it would be okay. I’d probably schedule an extra appointment before I left, just to make sure… But like. I think Evan would feel a lot better if he didn’t have to go alone.”

Cynthia smiled. “Okay. You promise you’re feeling up to it?”

Connor nodded.

“And you’ll call me to check in every day?”

Connor nodded again.

“And if anything is the matter, you’ll say so?”

Connor ducked his head, but nodded. “I just… I really want to be there for him, mom. I. It would be nice to be the one helping him out for a change.”

Cynthia nodded again. “Can you have Evan send me his flight information? I’ll talk to your dad when he gets home later.”

Connor’s hesitant smile evaporated.

“He worries,” Cynthia said, shaking her head. “And I worry. But I trust you. I’m trusting you to be honest with us, Connor. And if you say you can handle this, then I believe you.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Larry didn’t want Connor to go to Colorado, naturally.

Cynthia wasn’t letting him win this one.

“He was _just_ in the hospital!”

“He’s been doing a lot better since he got home. His new medications seem to be helping, and his doctors say he seems to be adjusting to being home. I think we should trust him when he says he can handle this.”

“And what if he can’t?”

“Then we’ll help him, Larry, this isn’t rocket science!”

“I don’t think this is safe.”

“I’ve already talked to Mr. Hansen and his wife. They are aware that Connor and Evan have both been struggling a little these days with their mental health. They have my number, yours, and Heidi’s. He’ll have an appointment with his therapist before he leaves and as soon as he comes back. We’re not giving him permission to go to Burning Man. We’re letting him visit Evan’s family.”

“Why does he need to go with to visit his friend’s dad?”

Cynthia shook her head, muttering, “You already know _why_.”

“I don’t like it. I feel like we’re letting him just do whatever he wants, no consequences.”

“I’m not willing to punish him for being sick Larry!”

Larry stared at her. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“I just think if we show him that we trust him to do this, he might start trusting us a little more. Telling us what is actually going on with him.”

“I don’t like this,” Larry said, frowning.

“Well of course you don’t like it,” Cynthia said, irritated. “It’s not our job to _like_ it. We just… we have to be there. Catch him if he stumbles, and trust him to know his own limits. He’ll never learn and we’ll never learn if we don’t give him a chance.”

“Fine. He can go.”

“Good, because I already told him he could.”

“We’re supposed to make these decisions together, Cynthia!”

“I think you forfeit that right a long time ago,” She said coolly.

Cynthia walked out from her bedroom after talking with Larry, not surprised to see Zoe and Connor unsubtly sitting at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping.

“So?” Zoe asked, expectantly, not smiling. Cynthia noticed that she had hooked her arm through Connor’s. It was an unusual but welcome sight. He looked nervous. Zoe looked ready for a fight.

“Let’s go book a flight,” Cynthia said. Connor smiled widely, and Cynthia watched Zoe high five him.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Zoe said, grinning. “Told you they’d let you go.”

“Yeah, yeah, you win.” He rolled his eyes at his sister, hurrying down the steps to follow Cynthia into the kitchen where was pulling up the airline’s website on her laptop. She copied the flight information that Evan had sent along to her. Cynthia briskly typed in her credit card number, smiling over at Connor as the transaction processed and the ticket was purchased.

“Well you can text Evan that you’ll be joining him,” Cynthia said smiling.

Connor smiled. “Thanks mom.”

She smiled back at him, standing up, planning to pour a glass of wine and retire to bed pleased with herself for advocating for Connor.

But before she had crossed the kitchen, Connor was on his feet again. “Mom?”

“Yeah sweetie?”

He sort of shuffled toward her. “Really. Thank you. For what you said to dad.”

“Oh, of course.” She patted his shoulder. She started to turn away.

“Wait, mom, can I…” Connor stopped. She turned to look at him, and his eyes flickered between the floor and her eyes. “Is it okay if I give you a… um. Can I give you a hug? Is that okay?”  
Cynthia felt her breath catch. “Oh honey, of course.” She held out her arms, and Connor stepped into them, pulling her into a tight hug.

He had to hunch to hug her properly, and Cynthia smiled because Connor was so tall he could rest his chin on the top of her head even while hunching.

“Love you mom.”

“Love you too sweetheart.”

He squeezed her tightly again, kissed her cheek, and then headed up the steps, calling after Zoe something about buying her a coffee on the way to school the next morning.

Cynthia smiled to herself.

Progress.

* * *

 

It was a Saturday morning. Cynthia was sitting in the waiting room of Connor’s therapist’s office, waiting for him to finish his session. She had been surprised, honestly, when Connor agreed to take a ride to his appointment that weekend. He usually only saw Dr. Collins on Tuesdays, but since he was hospitalized, Connor had asked to see her a second time each week. At least for a little while. Cynthia was happy to agree, happy to see her son reaching out and asking for the help he needed. So she picked him up from Evan’s at 8:30 that morning and drove him to his appointment, and she was just. So relieved. The way she always was when she saw him, alive and relatively well.

Connor stepped out of the office after his fifty minute session was over. He wasn’t smiling or frowning, his face was sort of blank.

“Hi honey,” Cynthia said, tucking her book back into her tote bag. “How’d it go?”

Connor shrugged. “Alright.” He pulled on his winter hat and jacket. “Should we go home?”

Cynthia pulled on her own jacket. “We can, if that’s what you want.”

Connor shrugged and walked out of the door. Cynthia followed. She could see the way he was picking at his fingers. Larry used to do that when he first quit smoking. Sighing, Cynthia said, “I don’t approve, but if you want to have a cigarette, I’d rather you do it now than sneak out and chain smoke a whole pack in the backyard.”

Connor stared at her. “I’m fine.”

Cynthia frowned a little. “We could always stop on the way home and pick up some nicotine gum.”

Connor blinked.

“Your dad used to chew that though, and it was pretty terrible, so I’m not sure if that’s the way to go.”

Connor sighed. “Just. This isn’t a trick, right? You’re not going to turn around and ground me?”

“Connor, I know you smoke. You’re eighteen. I’m not going to ground you for it, even if I don’t like it.”

Connor stared for another minute, but eventually it seemed that nicotine addiction won out because he took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

“Can I ask… when did you start smoking?”

“Mom, seriously?” Connor said, exhaling.

“I’m just curious. Not a lecture.”

Connor looked at her suspiciously for a while, taking another drag, before saying. “Started in sixth grade, didn’t make a habit of it until eighth.” His jaw was set tightly, like he was getting ready for a fight, issuing a challenge.

Cynthia nodded. “I didn’t know.”

Connor shrugged.

“I should have known. You were still a baby.”

“Mom, _please_.”

“I’m sorry,” She said, shaking her head. “I just… I should have known.”

Connor exhaled smoke. “I mean. To be fair. I _was_ hiding it from you.”

Cynthia was a little surprised he would admit it.

“I used to keep a bottle of mouthwash and a travel sized Febreeze in my backpack,” Connor said, sounding almost… amused. “I was so sure I was going to get caught and grounded forever. It was stupid. Obviously I just shouldn’t have been doing it.”

Cynthia almost smiled at that. “Would you want to get coffee with me, instead of heading straight home?” She asked suddenly. “I mean. I know you have homework, but if you wanted…?” She felt a little bit ludicrous at how hopeful her voice sounded asking her son if he wanted to get coffee with her.

“Oh. Um. Sure.” He looked at her suspiciously. “You’re not using this to give me some lecture right?”

“No. I swear. I just… thought it might be nice.”

Connor nodded. He stubbed out his cigarette (Cynthia was surprised and little bit pleased to see him pick up the butt and carry it to a nearby trash can). “Ready?”  
Cynthia smiled. They walked to the SUV, and Cynthia climbed into the driver’s seat, suddenly flooded with memories of teaching Connor and Zoe how to drive, surprised by how long ago that felt. She hadn’t felt qualified to teach her children to drive, but after Connor once walked three miles home in the dark rather than stay in the car with his father while he had his learner’s permit, Cynthia had assumed the role of instructor, and it just stuck with Zoe.

Cynthia got coffee with Zoe sometimes. Not especially often; Zoe was much closer to Larry. But sometimes, they’d book themselves at the same time at the salon and grab lunch or coffee after getting a trim or highlights or something. It felt natural to do with Zoe.

Cynthia wondered what, if anything, would even feel natural with her son. She doubted he would jump for joy if she suggested any of the things Cynthia and Zoe did together; clothes shopping, hair appointments, and a few times they had even done yoga followed by mani/pedis together. Though Zoe seemed to be keeping her nails a lot shorter these days. Probably the guitar playing.

Cynthia tried to imagine bringing Connor to a nail salon and dismissed the thought immediately. He was gay, not actually a girl.

They arrived at a Starbucks about five minutes later, and Cynthia noticed the way that Connor was watching her suspiciously all through the walk inside. He kept his eyes on her when she ordered a soy latte, and then mumbled his own order to the barista. Cynthia paid, smiling a little at the silly animation of stars stacking up that appeared on her Starbucks app.

“Thanks,” Connor said softly.

“Of course. Why don’t you go find us a table, and I’ll wait for the coffee?”

He walked off, and Cynthia noticed as his hair caught the light that it was a little bit uneven in the back. She wondered when the last time he’d even had a trim, and then wondered if there was a delicate way she could suggest one. Taking the two coffee cups offered by the barista, Cynthia headed off to find Connor. He was sitting with his head resting on his folded arms, but he sat up straighter and smiled a little when he saw her.

“Thank you,” He said.

“Sure thing,” Cynthia said, sitting down. She shrugged off her winter jacket; Connor kept his on. “So, how are you feeling today?”

Connor looked surprised. “Fine,” He said apprehensively. “How are you?”

She tried not to let the disappointment that he didn’t give her more than “fine” show on her face. “I’m alright.”

Silence fell around them.

Connor sort of looked down at his coffee cup, so Cynthia mimicked him, and _lord she was absolutely terrible at this._

“What were you reading?” Connor asked suddenly. “In the waiting room?”

Cynthia felt like she had just won the jackpot on a penny slot. Of course. _Books_. When he was a little boy, books were about the only thing he would talk about at length. He had a list of favorites that was as long as his arm. Sometimes Cynthia would watch, amused, as Connor and Zoe play acted little pretend stories based on the books he read; they’d be Harry and Hermione solving a mystery, or Peter and Wendy fighting pirates, or Jack and Annie in their magic treehouse. Zoe and Connor had begged and begged for a treehouse after they got into that series. And even as Connor grew quieter and more withdrawn, he always had a book in his hands. In fact, taking away his books became the only effective way to punish him.

Cynthia smiled. “My book club is reading _Tell The Wolves I’m Home._ It’s very interesting. I’m really enjoying it so far.”

“What’s it about?” Connor asked.

“It’s about a girl who loses her uncle to AIDS in the 1980s, and afterward meets his longtime partner Toby, and they grow pretty close. There’s a lot of things about the girl’s –June’s – relationship with her sister, and her mother’s relationship with the uncle who died. I’m starting to worry about how it will end. I think Toby might be sick too.”

Connor smiled. “That sounds really good.”

And Cynthia said, “I’ll let you borrow it when I finish?”

And Connor smiled wider, and Cynthia realized she had nearly forgotten the small crinkle he got in his nose when he actually smiled and meant it.

“Cynthia!”

She turned, surprised to hear her name. Connor’s head turned as well, and Cynthia noticed how his smile wilted. Carla Harris was walking toward their table, smiling, and Cynthia realized too late that Brian was following his mother.

Connor and Brian had not gotten along since middle school. In one of their more memorable interactions of the last five years, Connor had shoved Brian’s head into a toilet. Carla and Cynthia had been friends for ages, but Cynthia never quite trusted her after going to Carla when the boys were in middle school and getting the standard “boys will be boys” garbage she was getting from Larry at home. It wasn’t boys being boys that Brian was starting awful rumors about Connor at school; it wasn’t boys being boys that both of them ended up concussed because of each other in the seventh grade.

“Hi Carla. How are you?”

“Wonderful!” Carla practically trilled. “Bri and I are on our way to tour the Richmond Campus. Just stopping for a little pick-me-up, isn’t that right Bri? He’s gotten so many offers to play football, so we have to actually visit to see where he belongs.”

“That sounds great,” Cynthia said with a somewhat lackluster smile. Personally, she thought Carla and her son were being awfully boastful considering that Zoe mentioned Brian was in several of her _junior_ level classes as a senior.

“And what are you and Connor up to this morning?” Carla asked expectantly.

Cynthia exchanged a look with Connor, and realized she had no real answer that wouldn’t embarrass him at school come Monday. She smiled at Carla as politely as she could and said, simply, “We just felt like coffee.” She shrugged and smiled harder at Carla and Brian. “Well, don’t let us keep you. I’m sure you’ve got a _long_ drive ahead.”

Carla nodded. “Yes we ought to hit the road,” She said, leaning down to kiss Cynthia’s cheek. “And Connor, I’m so glad to see that you’re feeling better.” She and Brian floated off.

Cynthia felt like she had swallowed a stone.

Connor was looking at her, face unreadable… “You told _her_?”

Cynthia shook her head. “No, no, I just… I missed book club, and all I said was that you weren’t feeling well.”

Connor shook his head. “I’m not… You can’t just tell your bookclub all of my garbage!” He stood up suddenly and a few people around them looked up. Connor was breathing unevenly. “I’m just… I’ll wait in the car or whatever.”

Cynthia let him go. She counted to twenty in her head. Then she grabbed her jacket, collected her purse and their two coffees, and headed back to the car. Connor was smoking again. Cynthia frowned, but approached cautiously. “I brought your coffee.”

No response.

“Connor, I’m sorry,” She said. “I didn’t give details, but I shouldn’t have told the ladies in my bookclub why you were out of school. I know some of them have kids who go to school with you. It wasn’t fair of me to do that. I’m sorry.”

Connor stared at her. “I overreacted.”

Cynthia was surprised.

“I just… _hate_ Brian, and I thought… I thought you’d just been laughing it up with Mrs. Harris behind my back. About how messed up I am… and that like, Brian knew and…” He shook his head, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. “It’s stupid. I’m stupid. Just. Sorry.”

“You’re not stupid.”

Connor laughed bitterly. “I’m sure as hell not smart enough to assume you’re not talking shit about me to your friends even though, like, you’re probably just as embarrassed as I am so why would you say anything to them?”

“Connor.”

He looked up at her. His eyes looked a little red.

“I’m not embarrassed of you.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’m not a little kid anymore, I get it, I’m a mess.”

“And I love you,” Cynthia said firmly. “I’m never embarrassed of you.”

“Please,” Connor said. “Spare me. I know how you looked at me when you packed me up for rehab. You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Bull _shit_ you’re not,” Connor said, his eyes flashing. “Like I said. I get it. I’m embarrassed too. Just. I don’t like it when you lie just to make yourself feel better okay?”

“Honey…”

“Can we just go home? Please?”

Cynthia sighed. “Sure.” She held out the hand holding his coffee. “Did you still want this?”

Connor looked at her, surprised. “Thanks.” He took it.

Cynthia had never felt like more of a failure.

Because, in some ways, he was right.

In some ways, she was embarrassed.

She didn’t tell her friends she had sent Connor to rehab last summer; she’d said he was on a retreat. Everyone knew, of course. It was an open secret, but one that Cynthia refused to own up to.

When the ambulance had come to her house in September and her concerned neighbors asked what had happened, Cynthia had replied that Connor had an accident but was alright now. She’d told herself, at the time, that it was his news to tell. And to a certain extent, Cynthia still believed that.

But she was embarrassed. And ashamed. Ashamed that she couldn’t seem to help him, embarrassed that at every turn he seemed to find a new way to get worse and it was her fault.

 

The first time she had felt that intense shame, Cynthia spent the whole night crying. Her son, her boy, scared her. Scared his sister. Scared everyone.

He’d lost his temper.

Maybe he'd lost his mind. 

Cynthia didn’t know exactly what started it, just that it ended with Connor and Zoe screaming at each other in the kitchen. Cynthia walked in to hear Zoe screaming “FUCK YOU YOU PSYCHO!” and then everything happened very suddenly.

Thankfully, the chair Connor picked up and threw at his sister missed her completely.

Less thankfully, the chair exploded on impact, sending pieces of wood flying.

“Connor Lawrence!” Cynthia shouted, and then Zoe was dashing up the steps.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Cynthia took a sharp intake of breath, momentarily paralyzed as she watched Connor run after his sister. She heard Zoe’s door slam, and a moment later could hear Connor pounding on the door, demanding she open it, screaming that he’d kill her.

“Larry!”

He was already on the stairs when Cynthia ran into the hall. She watched, horrified, as Larry practically threw Connor to the ground, grabbing him by his shirt collar and sending him tumbling backward. Cynthia was halfway up the steps when her brain could finally process what on earth Larry was saying.

“Dangerous.”

“Not welcome in this house.”

“Not to go near Zoe ever again.”

“Larry, stop,” Cynthia said, looking between her husband and son frantically, unsure who to go to, who to comfort, feeling her heart in her throat as she heard Zoe crying from the next room.

“Connor go to your room,” Cynthia heard herself say.

“Fuck you,” Connor spat at her.

“ _Now_.”

He glared at her but nonetheless went into his room and slammed the door.

“He can’t stay here,” Larry said, shaking his head. “Not in my house.”

Cynthia shook her head. “I’m going to talk to Zoe.”

“No, Cynthia, I’m telling you he’s got to go. This is the last straw. He wants to flunk out of high school, smoke pot, and throw his life away? Fine. But this is it. He’s going to hurt her. He’s gone.”

“He’s _sixteen_ , Larry, where do you suggest he goes?”

He started in on boot camps, anger management, his parents’ house, boarding schools for troubled youths.

“I’ll call my mom,” Cynthia said desperately. “I’ll call her, okay? I’ll ask if he can’t stay with her this summer. Maybe... Maybe time away will help.”

Larry shook his head. “Fine. But this is it, Cynthia. He pulls something like this again, he’s not welcome in this house.” Larry turned and knocked softly on Zoe’s bedroom door, his voice totally transforming as he said, “Sweetie, it’s dad. Are you alright?”

The door popped open quickly, and Zoe practically threw herself into Larry’s arms, sobbing. Cynthia looked on, helpless, and then heading dejectedly down the stairs, grabbing the landline and placing a call to her mother.

There was something soul crushing about suffering through her mother’s I-told-you-so tone. Cynthia felt so beaten down, begging her mom to please take Connor for the summer, the unspoken worries that he would hurt himself or Zoe or that Larry would actually throw him out making her voice shake.

“When can you get him here?” her mom asked. “I’m setting up your old room now.”

By the next morning, Cynthia was packing up Connor’s things. He seemed a little dumbfounded to discover that he was actually being sent away. He seemed disgusted by the fact that he was being sent to, of all places, his grandmother’s. He seemed genuinely a little scared, like maybe he understood just how badly he had messed up this time.

“Look, I’ll apologize to Zoe,” he said, shoving his hands sheepishly into his pockets. “I just… got pissed. I know it wasn’t…” He kept stopping and starting, his breathing loud, ragged, uneven. Cynthia was worried he might genuinely have a panic attack. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I just… I can’t stay there with grandma. She doesn’t even _like_ me! When we saw her on Easter she just made comments about my hair.”

“Connor, look, I’ve _had_ it,” Cynthia said, throwing the suitcase she had packed for him closed and tugging the zipper furiously. “You don’t listen to me or your father. You almost seriously hurt your sister. Your grades are in the toilet, and you’ve skipped enough summer school that they won’t let you finish. And the smoking? Your father and I have had enough. You ought to be ashamed of how you have been behaving lately. You’re staying with your grandma this summer, and that is final. Have I made myself clear?”

Connor cast his eyes toward the ground, but nodded.

“Go wait in the car while I saw goodbye to your sister.”

“Can I… Can I at least tell her I’m sorry?” Connor muttered.

“No. Zoe said she doesn’t want to talk to you, and frankly I don’t blame her. You can call her in a few weeks if she says that is okay. Take your suitcase and go wait in the car.”

Connor grabbed the bag and rushed out of the room.

The moment he was gone, Cynthia had to take a few calming breaths. She had failed him, and now she could barely stand to look at him. She was ashamed. Ashamed of the person she had raised, ashamed of herself and her husband, ashamed that she was sending him to her mother’s.

Cynthia ran a hand over her face. She knocked on Zoe’s door. “Sweetheart, we’re leaving. I’ll be back tomorrow, probably in the late afternoon.”

Zoe pulled the door open. She looked like she had been crying. Cynthia pulled her into a tight hug. “It’ll be okay sweetie.”

Zoe shook her head, and Cynthia just held onto her tightly for another minute.

“I should go so we don’t hit traffic. I love you, Zo.”

“Love you too,” Zoe murmured. “He’s coming back, right?”

Cynthia frowned. “I hope so.”

Connor was sullen and silent the entirety of the five hour drive. He refused to give Cynthia a hug when she departed the next morning, and he rarely took any of her calls that summer. It broke her heart to have sent him away, but to hear her mom tell it, Connor was straightening out just fine. She set him to doing a lot of work around the house and out in the yard.

Cynthia didn’t know how bad things had really gotten until a few weeks after Connor got back home and she caught him crushing up and snorting a painkiller. Apparently the leftover narcotic cocktail from her mom’s back and knee surgeries in the last two years had been left out in the open. Apparently Connor had just helped himself to handfuls of these pills.

 

Apparently Cynthia lived in denial.

Cynthia didn’t admit how bad things had gotten until he ran away from home twice, high out of his mind, forcing her to spend days and days in blind panic searching for him.

She didn’t admit how ashamed she was of her son until the second time she visited him in rehab.

She didn’t admit how ashamed she was of herself until Connor looked her dead in the eye and said he knew she was embarrassed by him.

Connor went up to his bedroom when he got home, and Cynthia paced. She paced her house until she couldn’t take it anymore and walked upstairs to Connor’s bedroom. He was sitting at his desk, staring blankly into what looked like a battered old copy of _Heart of Darkness._ Cynthia knocked. Waited.

Connor turned. “I really have a lot of homework to catch up on, so if you’re going to yell at me-”

“I’m not here to yell,” Cynthia said. “I came to apologize.”

Connor stared.

“I’m so sorry. You’re right. Sometimes, I am embarrassed.”

Connor bit his lip. His face fell. “Oh. Okay. Well-”

“I’m embarrassed because I… I should be helping you, and I’m lost,” Cynthia said. “I’m ashamed of myself because I’m your mother. You shouldn’t ever need to ask for help, I should… I should just know if you need it. And I’ve failed at that, totally and completely, and telling people about what’s going on with you would mean admitting that I… suck as a parent.”

“What?” Connor said, eyes going wide. “No you don’t.”

Cynthia shook her head, wiping her eyes quickly. “That’s sweet of you, but you don’t need to say that. I’ve… I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m the one who has messed this up, okay Connor? I am. Not you.”

He looked at her, his face twisted up, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“I knew you needed help when you were thirteen,” Cynthia said, admitting this outloud for the first time. “I knew the day we took you to see that doctor, and the first thing he did was tell me you ought to come back once a week. I knew it from the day you got into that fight with Brian Harris… and I. I convinced myself I was wrong because your dad didn’t want to admit you needed help, and you.. Were thirteen. You were a baby, and you said you were fine because you knew that was what I wanted to hear. And I believed it because I wanted to believe it. And I… I’m so sorry.”

“Mom,” Connor said in this choked voice. “What the _fuck_?”

She wiped her eyes again, sighing, and taking a seat on Connor’s bed. He got up from his desk and sat down next to her. “I just. I’m so sorry. I let you down, and I know I can’t undo that, and I am just… so sorry.”

“Oh my god, please stop crying,” he said, his voice hoarse. “If you don’t stop then I’m going to start.”

Cynthia let out a wet chuckle, wiping her eyes, and murmuring that she was sorry again. But that just set her off, and then Connor pulled her into a hug, and for the second time in the space of a month the pair of them just cried together.

“Damn it,” Connor said, shaking his head. “I was _really_ trying to keep it together.”

“Don’t,” Cynthia said. “Don’t you dare. I’m your mom and you can cry in front of me, even if you’re ninety seven.”

Connor shook his head, trying to smile, but then he just hiccuped and said, “Most days I don’t think I can make it to nineteen, let alone ninety seven.”

And Cynthia held him tighter and said he would make it to nineteen if it was the last thing she did. “I swear.”

“Okay.”

“Pinky promise, even,” Cynthia said, and Connor laughed wiping his eyes.

“I forgot we used to do that,” He mumbled.

“When you were really little, you never liked being left with a babysitter,” Cynthia said, smiling. “That’s how it got started. You’d always make me promise we’d come back.”

Connor smiled, looking embarrassed.

Cynthia kissed the side of his head. “I’m sorry for interrupted your homework.”

Connor shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ve read it already, I just. Hated it so I was rereading the important parts.”

Cynthia smiled. “I was thinking I might, I dunno, turn on a movie or something? Would you want to watch something with me?”

Connor smiled. “Sure. Yeah.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t a great day.

Connor had gotten a rejection letter from the school where Evan would be going in the fall. The school whose application Connor had turned in anxiously a few months before. He kept saying he doubted that he would get in,  but anxiously checked their admission requirements daily while he worked on his application.

But he didn’t get in.

Larry walked in on Evan and Connor kissing and spent half the night locked in his study, probably drinking from the flask he thought Cynthia didn’t know about. Cynthia didn’t go talk to him about it. Frankly, Connor and Evan weren’t hiding anything from him. Larry had been operating delusionally if he thought ignoring it would make it go away. Cynthia didn’t go talk to him. She decided he was on his own to come around to this one.

Zoe tried to play peacemaker for everyone and everyone let her. She made silly jokes and smiled a little more than she needed to.

It wasn’t a great day. But it wasn’t catastrophic either. Connor and Evan were both sad, but not crushed. Larry seemed shocked, but not angry. Zoe didn’t seem her usual resigned self, but just like she genuinely wanted to smooth over some of the bumps in the day.

It wasn’t a great day, but it wasn’t a terrible one either.

Nobody died. Nobody nearly died.

It was a bad day, but not the worst day.

Cynthia was in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea, thinking she would give herself five minutes and then she would go and talk to Connor. See how he was doing. She knew how disappointed he must be; she had watched and helped as he studied day and night for the last few months, trying to raise his GPA to acceptable levels. He had worked really hard, and she was saddened to see it hadn’t paid off for him. Not yet.

Cynthia heard her electric kettle shut off and walked toward her mug to pour the hot water over the tea bag. Three minutes and she’d go and check on him.  

“Mom?”

She turned around to find Connor standing there, already in his pajamas, hair up, glasses on… he looked exhausted. She had to resist the urge to march him straight up to bed.

“Hey sweetie,” Cynthia said. “Want some tea? I was just going to come check on you.”

“No thanks,” Connor said, taking a seat at the table. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie and chewed on his lip. Cynthia sat down next to him.

At the same moment that Cynthia asked, “Is everything okay?” Connor said, “Evan asked me to the prom.”

“Oh!” Cynthia said, smiling despite herself. “Evan asked you to go to prom?”

Connor’s face went a little bit pink, but he nodded.

“Oh sweetie, that’s great!”

“Yeah… I mean.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, then mumbled, “I don’t have. Anything. To wear.” Connor sighed, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his hoodie. “I, um. I was wondering if… Um. Maybe we could… go like. Find something? For that? If that’s okay?”

Cynthia was beaming. “You want me to come help you pick something to wear to the prom?”

“...Yes.”

“I would love to,” Cynthia said, smiling. “When is prom?”

Connor sighed, telling her the date.

“We should probably go soon then,” Cynthia said. “What about next weekend?”

“Yeah. I mean. If you’re okay with that.”

“I’m happy to go whenever you want,” Cynthia said, smiling. “Does Evan know what he’s wearing yet?”

Connor shook his head. “He just asked me, like, _today_.”

“Well, we should find out if he has any specific colors in mind so you don’t clash.”

Connor nodded. They sat there, just chatting a little bit about suits and ties and whether or not Zoe was going to go. If she’d want to come with shopping. “Do you think she’ll wear a dress?” Cynthia asked him.

Connor looked at his mom like she had grown another head. “How should I know?”

“Well I just… isn’t she going with Alana?”

Connor laughed. “She’s not _Ellen Degeneres,_ mom.”

“Well, I don’t know! I just thought maybe you might!”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. It felt normal, natural, to be having this conversation. To giggle about prom and talk about whether or not Zoe would wear a tux.

“Actually… is it okay if I have some tea?”

Cynthia jumped up, “Sure!”

“I can make it,” Connor said, almost smiling, and Cynthia watched him go through the motions of making himself a cup of tea. It was such a normal, boring thing for him to be doing, but it made her heart swell with pride. Her boy was going to be okay. He had gotten some bad news today, but he was sitting her having tea with her. He was going to the prom. He had people who loved him. He was okay. He was going to be okay.

“Connor, I just want you to know how proud of you I am,” Cynthia said, and Connor turned to look at her so fast he nearly overturned his mug.

“For… making tea?”

Cynthia smiled. “Just. For being you. For working so hard all year,” She said. “I know you didn’t get the answer you wanted today, but you’ve done so much so well that I know if you keep at it you can go wherever you want next year.”

“Thanks mom,” Connor mumbled, bringing his mug back to the table to sit beside Cynthia. He looked a little bit embarrassed, but he was smiling a little.

Sometimes, Cynthia found it very difficult to comprehend that Connor was no longer a little boy. But on days like this one, she was proud of the person he had become.


End file.
